An Unexpected Destiny
by Fiannalyn also Fianna
Summary: Non canon Au: Haldir is sent on a journey to find a lost soul, but finds she's not quite what he expects.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: An Unexpected Destiny

Author: Fianna with assistance by Lady Julie

Rating: R for violence, sex (really)

Disclaimer: The world of LotR belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I borrow them only for the pleasure it brings.

Note: Remember, elvish (and gaelic) does not have a soft C… Ciren is pronounce (Kear-en) (at least in my mind…heheh… ) like Celeborn, Cirdan… etc etc…

CHAPTER ONE: Rescued – or not

He did not like men, or cities, not even small villages where his heritage was so different, where everyone watched his every movement. Yet, even with all the aspects of his dislike, he enjoyed these journeys, enjoyed the simple things he learned each and every time he ventured out from beneath the golden boughs of Lorién.

Haldir, as emissary to the Lady of Light, Galadriel, princess of the Noldor and ruler beside her husband Celeborn, found traveling the lands of Middle Earth a tiresome, if also intriguing, part of his life.

His command of languages was impeccable.

His reserve toward those not of elvish blood was both ridiculed and respected. Most men did not understand his aloofness, thinking him merely arrogant and superior; they did not see his attitude was more one of self-confidence in just who he was and what he had to do.

Sitting, as he was this evening in the rank smelling, musty confines of an ale house, amid the dirty and sweat reeking bodies around him, he could only smile faintly into the glass of wine the proprietor had kindly offered him, one of few who appreciated his rank and longevity.

But then, Haldir had visited this pub before, and knew the innkeeper well enough to have earned the man's respect, if not for being an elf, then for the money paid without hesitation for the simple extras offered him: the wine, a clean bed in a room to himself, and the news that the man told to his ears only.

A commotion nearby, two tables away, brought up his gaze if not his head, the grey eyes scanning the crowd swiftly, marking the trouble maker easily, amid the shouting surrounding . . . her.

That brought a lift of an elegant brow, a straightening of spine that brought his vision even with hers, a wide-eyed look of panic and frustration as she struggled in the hands of two burly men intent on forcing their lips against hers.

Haldir sighed deeply, setting the fine glass down on the marred table, and rose gracefully to his feet so smoothly the men near him did not even notice.

The woman slapped one man handily, sending him reeling back into the crowd with a gasp of rage. The other glared for a moment at the wench, which gave Haldir the moment he needed, as well as time for a quick glance to the innkeeper who nodded faintly.

"By god, woman, you've got some nerve…" the man snarled, lifting his hand to strike only to find it held firmly in the air by a set of fingers that could have snapped the bones easily.

"Indeed she has," Haldir agreed in a voice too low for many to hear unless they were close, which most were not, recognizing the elf for what he was, powerful- and a warrior not meant to be trifled with.

Haldir met the man's gaze calmly, grey eyes expressionless, aware the woman had shifted to his side, her hands gripping the belt at his waist, but not frightened as much as angry.

"Let me go…"

Haldir allowed his lip to curve faintly, amused. "Touch her further and you will not have use of the hand."

The man scowled, jerking free of the Haldir's grasp with a scornful growl. "You interfere where you are not wanted."

"You push too far, Fen," the woman complained irritably from underneath Haldir's arm where she had burrowed.

He resisted the urge to push her further away, and instead dropped his arm around her shoulders and then to her back, feeling instantly the trembling beneath his hand, proof of the fear she had hidden so well.

Fen hauled his drunken friend from where he was still sprawled on the table. "We were only having fun, meant no harm." The last was spoken roughly to Haldir.

Haldir did not move, nor change his expression, only watched the man drag the other with him outside with a grumbled curse. The crowd around him remained silent, waiting for his next move.

The woman smiled at him, her eyes a peculiar blend of grey and blue, wide and thickly lashed in black. Her mouth was the color of a particular rose he admired in Galadriel's garden, her cheeks flushing as the smile slowly faded.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean for you to be troubled," she said, stepping out from under the protectiveness of his arm, brushing a hand across the flush of her cheeks.

He bowed his head, touching his brow. He had not planned to step in, his mind deploring the interaction, but his feet, and heart perhaps, reacted for once before he thought fully. Too late to retract his generosity, he could only smile faintly. "Nay, no trouble, I was merely moving toward the door."

He lifted the elven bow he'd leaned on the table to his shoulder, his gaze sweeping the room, dismissing the curious gazes that followed him out the door.

The Innkeeper had his horse ready, the white mare well fed and groomed, impatient to be out of the village as much as Haldir was. Haldir took the reins from the man, handing him the coins he required, and began to walk away from the inn when she came bursting out of the door, nearly falling in her haste.

"Wait!"

He didn't pause, ignored the plaintive wail with a deep sigh.

"Damn you, wait!" she cried, splashing through the mud behind him when he did finally stop, turning his head to glance over his shoulder.

She had very trim ankles, delicately boned, revealed by the lifted hem of her skirt. She ran up to him, chest heaving, her cheeks still flushed rosily, but now more from anger than anything else.

"You can't just leave!"

He watched her as she stepped around him, blocking his path, hands on her hips. He found her amusing. "Indeed, I must."

She lifted her chin in a stubborn gesture that did nothing to deter him. "You haven't even given me a chance to say thank you."

He shrugged, moving past her, leading the mare.

"You are Haldir." It was not a question.

"Aye." He felt little inclination to further the conversation she seemed determined to have. She did not notice, but stepped into his way again.

"You've been asking questions." It was, again, not a question, but a statement that was true. He had been asking questions. He lifted a brow, silently inquiring what she wanted.

"I know what you seek," she said softly, smugly, arms now folded under her breasts, unaware of how nicely they looked pushed up like that. He put the thought aside with a frown.

"Don't talk much, do you," she continued, watching him closely. She smiled suddenly, impishly, lifting one hand to tap her lips in contemplation. "I've heard about you."

"Indeed," Haldir answered dryly. Most here had at some point.

"And I know you aren't fond of men, or women…" she added softly.

On the contrary, Haldir thought mildly, there were a few men he was fond of, in a platonic way. "I accept your thanks but it was nothing to deter the men so deep in the influence of their ale. Had you not challenged them…"

She blushed, lowering her eyes sheepishly. "I was not challenging them, only trying to make a point."

"By inferring they were not manly enough to garner a kiss from you."

The eyes flared to life, the blue becoming dark grey. "That's not what I meant when I said…"

He interrupted smoothly, disturbed to be suddenly annoyed at the thought of her kissing one of them. "It was how it sounded, and they took it to mean that. You should be far more careful of what you say, as well as where you set your feet, my lady, at night."

She blinked as he brushed past her again, rose petal lips open in astonishment. "What makes you think I am a lady?"

He grimaced without looking back, certain that she was not, after the episode a few moments before.

He heard her stomp a foot, and then the rustle of her dress as she ran up behind him again.

"What else do you know?"

He glanced down at her, studying the narrow face, pointed chin and flaring eyebrows. Even without the pointed ears, he could see the elven blood that flowed in her veins, even if most others could not. They were so blind to the obvious.

"Nothing," he replied, distancing himself from the interest that had flared at the sight of her earlier.

She knew it was not true, her eyes widened as she took a step back. "It's not possible to tell."

"For one not looking, perhaps."

She seemed flustered, blinking rapidly as he left her behind, his questions now answered. Galadriel would be pleased to know, yet would also despair of retrieving the lost soul she thought the girl was.

By elven standards she was hardly out of her teens, a young elleth just past puberty, untrained, untried, and arrogantly believing herself his equal. He knew that simply by her stubborn determination to hold him back, as she caught his sleeve, fingers winding their way into the fabric as he paused once again.

"You won't tell," she demanded of him, her blue-grey eyes fierce suddenly in the moonlight, her mouth a thin line.

"And who should I tell and why?" Haldir shook his head, reaching out to grasp her chin, forcing her still, studying the fine features with interest. "Your father would be most pleased to see you, indeed, he has asked of your mother many times."

The woman closed her eyes, but could not hide the pain that swept into her expression. Her mother, mortal, frail, and the treasured daughter of the local lord had left the elven lover she had taken to her bed. The child from that union hidden until Galadriel had seen her in her mirror, and had sent Haldir to find her.

It had taken years. Nothing much in elvish time, but for the frail mother, years she had little ability to spare, until here he was now, hoping to convince her to release the child into his custody only to find the girl flirting foolishly in a crowd she did not belong in, nearly forced into a display that only made him cold with anger. Too long in the hands of men, the woman would not fit into any elvish society, or so he had intended to explain to Galadriel.

Why he had mentioned her father was beyond him. Perhaps one of the Vala was there, choosing his words, for he had not intended to speak of Elterion at all. The elf had been foolish enough to ply the mortal for her favors, the loss of his child would be a blow he would have to bear. Haldir frowned, releasing the girl suddenly, disarmed by the wide eyes.

She was very good, he thought distractedly, she had learned her trade well.

He dropped his hand, striding past her without another word.

"I do not know of my father," the girl said faintly, her voice tremulous. "My mother refused to speak of him, felt he had betrayed her."

Haldir had to stop, shoulders stiff, chin lifted in irritation. "Betrayed?" he snorted. He turned around to stare hard at the young woman. "She refused to see him, and never told him of you at all."

She stood still, hands clasped on her arms, silent, unable to refute his accusation. "So how did you know?"

He turned to grasp the mare's reins without answering.

"My mother said she couldn't tell him. It was her revenge for leaving her, not to let him know he'd sired a child, even one of tainted blood."

The pain in her voice halted him yet again, forcing him to turn around to face her. She had turned away, the hem of her dressed mired in the mud, shoulders slumped dejectedly.

"I've tried to forget I had a father," she whispered. "My mother lies near death, heartbroken, forlorn, so ill these past years she might as well be dead."

That explained the behavior, the lack of sense.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "I thank you for stepping in for me. Fen is really quite harmless, he'll not remember in the morning."

"You should not have been there in the first place," Haldir declared sternly.

The young woman smiled in amusement. "One must work to eat, my lord elf. We are not so lucky as to have such ease as the elves seem to have."

He lifted a brow. "You are of the Lord's family; have you no support from them?"

She laughed rudely. "Support a daughter who'd lain with the enemy? A creature not of human blood, no matter how handsome? A woman destined to bear a child of tainted blood. Nay, he cast her out years ago, and refused to remember that she was once his favorite."

All answers he had been given by the inn keeper, but had hardly believed. It made no sense to him.

"Why did she stay?"

"Where were we to go?"

She looked away at the lift of his chin.

"My mother couldn't bear to see him again. And so, since I was very small, we have not spoken of him at all, nor spoke of the fact that as I grow older I still look as if I am little past sixteen."

He hid the smile that disagreed with that assessment.

"And so you ply your trade in the inn."

This time it was her brow that rose as she stared at him curiously. "My trade?"

He lifted a hand, a gesture that pointed out the dress, the plunging neckline, the fit that hugged her slim body. "Your trade." He bared his teeth in a smile she knew was not, and turned away, dismissing her.

The mud hit the back of his head. Haldir gingerly touched the sodden mass that clung to his hair, staring at the dirt on his fingers in both surprise and shock - one that he had not sensed the blow, and two that she had flung it in the first place. He dropped his hand and the reins to his mare, whirling to stalk toward her, aware of her anger, her fear as he drew closer.

She stepped back rapidly, trembling as he caught her arms to shake her roughly. "What manner of foolishness is this?"

He felt a piece of mud drip onto his shoulder and watched her eyes shift to watch it slide further down his sleeve. Her lips twitched even as she trembled in his grasp. He let go, brushing off the offending blob with a growl.

"I was not plying my "trade" as you put it, Master Haldir," she declared stiffly, brushing back a strand of dark hair. "I was there working for the Innkeeper, if you must know."

Her lips were still twitching, her gaze on his hair. He resisted the urge to drag his hand through the mud, staring coolly down at her instead. "Indeed? Why then the familiarity with men such as this Fen?"

The woman snorted. "He is my cousin, and has always tried to take what he deems is his when full of drink. During the day he is the most mild-mannered of men, and one who will be dismayed to know what he has done."

Haldir shook his head, unable to understand the duality of such a person for elves did not become inebriated often by alcohol, nor changed their personalities to such any degree. Nor had the innkeeper mentioned the girl worked for him.

"Forgive my error," Haldir replied coldly. His mind was not changed to the fact she was not suitable at all to return to the elves, her manner was fully human.

She stared at him for a long moment without speaking until he began to turn away.

"Why did you come?"

He debated on his reply, but in the end knew the duty Galadriel had pressed upon him. "I've come looking for you."

He heard her rapid intake of breath, sensed her surprise. But she had known as well that it was true. "I really didn't believe it," she said quietly. "Why?"

He shifted his shoulders, his jaw tight as he answered, if a bit unwillingly, to explain Galadriel's wishes. "To bring you back, of course."

"And my mother?"

They had discussed that in depth, Celeborn, Galadriel and Haldir. Would they allow the mortal woman inside Lorién, would Elterion accept her, want her, or was it too painful for the elf, they who had such long memories, whose pain a hundred years ago was as fresh today as it was then? Elterion had answered them succinctly. Bring them back, he had said, please.

And here he was, yet unwilling to do that very thing.

Perhaps he was wrong, his first impression of her mistaken. In the end, he knew it was not his decision to make. "Elterion wishes her to return."

He heard the woman sigh softly. "I suppose that is my father?"

Haldir nodded, meeting her gaze over his shoulder, finding it both curious and wary. "Aye."

"I suppose, also, that I know only one side of the story, as do you."

That was true, and part of why Galadriel had sent him. "Indeed," he agreed dryly.

"Yet you were leaving," she reminded him suddenly, her voice full of reproach. "Because you thought I was a … a…" She snorted and he heard the rustle of her skirts as she turned, squelching through the mud away from him.

He turned around in surprise. "Where do you go?"

"Home, away from you, away from everything you represent. It is no wonder my mother refused to see my father, if he is anything like you."

Haldir was taken aback. "It was quite obvious to me what you were, or seemed…" he declared, annoyed suddenly that she had rebuffed him.

She didn't answer as she marched away from him.

"We can care for your mother, perhaps heal her ills."

She stopped, trembling, in the shadow of the inn, clearly visible to him in the moonlight.

"And give both the opportunity to explain, and perhaps, repair the pain given to each."

It was all they could offer. Reclusive as a race, they had refrained from interacting with most mortals, finding their short lives almost painful to watch. Elterion's desire for Mirium had shocked many, his pain at her loss nearly his undoing. He had been told she did not wish to see him, which was true it seemed by the girl's story. Elterion's side, however, told to them by Lord Cathier, was completely false.

Elterion had gone to Lord Cathier, requesting the woman's hand. Refused, insulted, and then sent away, Elterion had given up hope of ever seeing Mirium again.

Haldir had thought Elterion had given in too easily for the love he had professed, but the elf was not aggressive at all, nor forceful enough to press his suit. He had simply bowed his way out, and returned to Lorién, a silent wraith of the elf he had once been.

Any attempts to reopen negotiations with the Lord had been adamantly refused.

Had they known the woman had been cast out… Haldir sighed at the thought of the long years of pain felt by both parties. His actions had only added more pain. "Forgive me," he declared softly, touching his brow with a bow of his head. His hair, still caked with drying mud, slid over his shoulder, reminding him of how volatile the girl seemed to be.

"My name is Ciren," she said. "My mother is probably asleep, but we can wake her. The choice is hers to make."

He nodded, shoving the heavy strands back over his shoulder. She waited until he reached her side and then turned to face him, eying the long strands of his hair still stuck to his shoulder. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have thrown the mud at you."

He arched a brow in agreement, but did not say as much. She smiled faintly, touching the strands of his hair gingerly, unaware of his sudden stiffness at the contact.

"It's quite pretty, a shame to mar such beauty."

"It will wash," he replied, moving away from her curious fingers. Her eyes were far too intriguing, wide with innocence yet not, expressive yet hiding much behind the dark blue-grey depths.

They walked in silence, making their way through the village, unseen for the most part. Reaching her small cottage, Ciren paused, her hand on the door, and looked up at him with a frown. "I cannot say what my mother will do."

"We can only offer our aid, and our deepest regrets."

Ciren nodded and pushed open the door, moving into the darkened room easily. He followed, leaving the mare outside at the post. The cottage was small, hardly more than one tiny room ten paces square, with a loft overhead that seemed hardly tall enough for a dwarf, let alone a human of normal size. A curtain separated a space from the main area and this is where the woman went, sliding behind the partition with a brief glance his way.

Haldir stood patiently waiting, studying the room intently, aware of much of what was left unsaid about their life. The cottage seemed barely livable in his opinion, damp, the fire banked low, with few coals to show it had ever been lively at all. The quarters were cramped, with few possessions to show, only what was needed for daily living, and hardly that at all.

How could they have left the woman in such straits? Yet how could they have known of her misfortune?

Ciren pushed aside the curtain and waved for him to come closer, her expression carefully composed, revealing nothing to offer him any hint of her mother's condition. He ducked under the curtain, aware of the mud in his hair, the tangles in his quiver, the dirt caking the ends of his cloak.

The woman was sitting up against a few pillows, a heavy quilt tucked around her waist, the same grey-blue eyes of her daughter watching him so intently he stopped in surprise. She was far lovelier than Elterion had described, frail to the point of wasting away, yet even with the sparseness of her appearance, she was fair, her eyes so large in her face they nearly broke his heart so filled with pain and hope.

She had not given up it seemed, even this long.

"My lady," Haldir said, bowing deeply with fingers to his brow.

"You give me too much credit, my lord," Mirium whispered hoarsely.

"Nay, I think not," he replied with a faint smile.

"Elterion still lives?"

"Aye, if melancholy most days," he admitted.

Mirium blinked rapidly, looking away. "It has been a long while. I am sure he has forgotten me."

Haldir nearly laughed, but sat instead on the edge of the bed. "Nay, hardly a day goes by that he does not think of you. He sends you this." Haldir pulled a small carefully wrapped parchment from his sleeve.

Ciren watched impassively from near the curtain, arms folded tightly across her chest.

Mirium looked at it for along moment, and then reached for it, her fingers trembling visibly. "Why now suddenly?"

Haldir bowed his head, but his eyes remained fixed with hers. "We did not know of your misfortune, or of the child."

She allowed a sad smile to curve her lips. "Nay, I would not have told you had I been able."

"A pity for the loss to both of you," Haldir chided softly.

Mirium looked down at the letter, smoothing her fingers over the paper nervously. "Why do you come now?"

"I am here to make amends, to allow your daughter to know the blood that runs in her veins. Your father no longer rules your actions."

Mirium shook her head. "Not true, even now he can refuse me leave, my lord."

Haldir smiled faintly. "Then we shall have to leave quietly."

Ciren snorted. "We would not endanger your life, even should you think to take us. It is impossible. Where would we go?"

Haldir looked at the young woman intently. "To Lothlorien of course," he replied evenly.

"Lothlorien," Mirium repeated wistfully. "I have always wanted to see Elterion's home. He spoke of it so lovingly."

"Indeed," Haldir responded. "It is well loved by all elves."

"And populated only by elves," Ciren added. "We would not be welcome."

"Not true," Haldir said smoothly. "As I have said, it is why I am here."

Ciren rolled her eyes in disbelief, but Mirium sighed. "I would love to see him again. Seeing you," she looked up at Haldir with a warm smile. "Seeing you has brought back memories I had thought lost." She laughed softly. "Even so, my fair elf, leaving with me would be quite impossible. I cannot travel, you see." She caught her breath, pressing a hand to her chest. "Indeed, between my father's certain refusal to allow me to leave, and the handicap I would present, you would certainly have some ill befall you and I would not wish that upon you."

"Fairly put, my lady," Haldir agreed with a smile. "But give me a chance to prove otherwise. I will have you free of your father's wrath and upon the path to Lorién before the moon has left the bed of night."

Mirium giggled. "I have not heard such sounds for so long," she sighed. "Can you not hear the beauty of his voice, Ciren? The elves speak so wonderfully, I can hardly bear to hear him speak."

Ciren rolled her eyes again, and then blushed when she realized Haldir was watching. "We have enough here, it is foolish to try to leave, Mother."

"You would deny me my last chance at happiness, daughter?"

Haldir waited for the girl to reply, chin lifted as she glared at him.

"Of course not, but he can't get us out of here without Lord Cathier knowing. We have to pass through the city gates, how will he do that, pray tell?"

Mirium's gaze settled on Haldir. "I remember Elterion speaking of the March Warden of Lothlorien, and seeing you, my lord, I can see his words were spoken truly. If anyone can free me of this dismal life, it will be you. I leave us in your capable hands."

"You give in too easily," Ciren protested, rushing to her mother's side. "You do not know if he speaks truly, and traveling will be far too hard on you! I cannot bear to lose you as well!"

Mirium patted Ciren's hand, and then brushed her fingers along the parchment lying on her lap, as yet still unopened. "My proof is here." She sighed and then carefully opened the letter, the paper trembling more violently as the time passed until she dropped it, falling weeping into Haldir's waiting arms.

He had sat close beside Ciren, well aware of the contents of the letter, of a heart laid open to possible ridicule or forgiveness.

Ciren rose from the bed, hands pressed to her chest, watching as her mother gathered herself, her sniffles muffled in the linen Haldir pressed into her hands.

"I do not like this," Ciren declared stiffly, and then swept outside the curtain to leave Haldir with her mother alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: An Unexpected Destiny

Author: Fianna (with lots of help by Julie)

Rating: R for violence and mild sexual situations

Disclaimer: Tolkien (his estate rather) owns the characters of LOTR, I borrow them only for pleasure.

Note: Again, it's Ciren (Kearen), Mirium, (Meer re um) and Haldir… can you say yum?

Wink.

AN UNEXPECTED DESTINY

CHAPTER TWO: A New Path

There was little for Ciren to pack. They had nothing of value, hardly more than the clothes on their backs, a cloak for both, a bit of cheese and bread, and a small box her mother had hidden even from Ciren's eyes.

She did not open it, but carried it with the other things back into her mother's sleeping area to find the elf had bundled her mother into one of the blankets.

"I've got everything we have to take," Ciren declared stiffly, handing the box to her mother.

Mirium smiled, tucking the box into her blankets, while Haldir turned to Ciren with a frown. "Is that all you have for a cloak?"

Ciren stiffened, affronted that he obviously found the article lacking in some aspect she could not determine, but the elf ignored her dismay, reaching up to unclasp the elegant pin at his throat to remove the finely weaved cloak on his back.

"I cannot bring you all through the gate without raising suspicion," he said, pinning the cloak around her shoulders with a flourish of fabric that seemed to weigh nothing. "With this you will be able to slip past the guards without them seeing you."

She arched a brow at that, having heard the elves had some kind of magic, but had never really believed. Haldir lifted her mother into his arms easily, and ducking beneath the curtain Ciren pulled back, waited as she followed them into the main room of the house.

"I will bring your mother, with the excuse of taking her to a healer," Haldir explained quietly. "You on the other hand, must slip out alone, for if they believe you are still here, she will then return."

"And if that doesn't work," Ciren complained in a worried tone, eyeing her mother's wan face.

"Then we shall flee as best we can," Haldir said firmly.

Mirium wrapped her arms around the elf's neck and then smiled weakly at Ciren. "If anyone can get us out, dear, it's an elf. Trust me that he can do this."

She didn't, but had little to say about it. She watched Haldir sweep outside, settling Mirium on his white mare. Once she was as comfortable as she could be, he gathered the reins and then bowed slightly to Ciren. "We will meet you outside the village, near the stream that crosses the valley to the south. You can find it?"

Ciren snorted. "Of course I can. Don't worry about me."

The elf smiled suddenly, a brief flash of amusement that lit up his eyes for a moment, making him seem far different from the distant person he'd seemed. "I do not worry about you."

In a moment, they were gone, the elf leading her mother away, his long hair gleaming in the moonlight. Ciren could only hope things would go as well as he planned.

They did not. She had hardly reached the closest building to the gate when she heard the guard call out, halting the elf and his burden, her mother, from going further.

Ciren peeked around the corner, hidden among the shadows much better than she could have imagined, looking much like the wall around her if she had been able to see herself.

Haldir stood calmly before the guard, one hand on the sword at his hip, the other still holding the reins of his horse. Mirium sat huddled in the blanket, her face white with fear.

"You cannot go through the gate this late. It is unwise to travel at night," the guard declared stonily.

Haldir lifted a brow, Ciren could see his expression even where she stood, one filled with disdain toward the man blocking their way. The street was otherwise clear, with only the guard in their way.

But one that was well armed and wary.

The elf bowed his head, and said something Ciren did not catch, which made the guard snort and shake his head.

Ciren moved closer, holding the elven cloak tight around her, trying to keep as silent as she could.

"I have little time to spare arguing with you," Haldir was saying quietly. "She is ill, and the longer it takes to get her to the healer I know, the less chance she will survive."

The guard frowned and shook his head adamantly. "She cannot go. I have orders that this woman is not allowed beyond the gate of the village, ever."

The elf glanced at her mother as if to ascertain the truth of the guard's statement, but Ciren saw it was only a move that distracted the guard, for the sword at the elf's hip was suddenly in his hand, drawn silently, and held now at the man's throat.

"You will stand aside," Haldir said coldly. "I care not for the Lord's orders. She will receive the necessary care. You will not stop me."

The guard scowled, and then shouted suddenly, raising the alarm. "Guards, raise the guards!"

His words ended abruptly as the elven sword sliced across his chest. But the alarm had alerted the others nearby and more soldiers came running. Haldir sheathed his sword and leaped behind Mirium, urging the mare into a fleeting run, passing beneath the portcullis even as it sank toward the ground.

Ciren rushed toward the gate, and managed to slide beneath the iron bars just before it shuddered to the ground. Immediately it began to rise again as a company of guards appeared, riding swiftly through the street to follow the elf outside the village.

There was no way to keep up with the horses, so Ciren quickly made her way along the edge of the road, hiding among the shadows, amazed none had noted her at all.

Perhaps the elves did have magic, she thought a short time later, pushing aside another low hanging branch to reach the road.

She didn't like what she found. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, but Haldir stood in the center of the road, surrounded by five horsemen, his bow drawn and pointed at one of the men.

"You might get one or two, but truly, little more," one of the guards sneered, his sword drawn and pointed, like the others, at the tall elf.

Haldir sniffed audibly, his fingers relaxed on the shaft of his bow, yet to Ciren he seemed coiled from the silvery hair of his head to the firm stance of his feet, his body braced to do whatever he must to be free.

The guards shifted, a few laughing at the elf's certain demise, five to one seemed good odds in their favor.

The leader of the guards leaned over his knee. "Where is the woman?"

The elf shrugged, shifting his gaze to the man, but his aim remained on one of the other guards. "I know not, nor would I tell you if I did. She is free of her prison; you will not take her back, even should I fail in my duty."

"Your duty?" One of the guards snorted. "We have no love of elves, why should you have any duty to one of our own?"

Haldir turned his gaze on the man, one so cold the guard swallowed and shifted uneasily.

"No matter," the leader declared roughly. "You have broken the law, you will return to Lord Cathier for whatever punishment he deems fit."

Ciren shuddered. Lord Cathier, unwillingly spoken of as her grandfather, was a cruel man these days. But she was helpless, unable to aid the elf at all.

Haldir, however, did not seem to need her help, for the fingers suddenly relaxed that held the sleek elven line to his cheek, the arrow free with a whoosh of air to thud into the guard's chest, toppling him from his horse. But even before the arrow hit, another had taken its place, thudding into yet another guard, and then yet another before the stunned men gathered themselves to duck out of the way of the dangerous and very well-aimed arrows.

Haldir's expression did not change, his lips were thin, eyes fixed on whatever target he chose, his feet shifting in the dirt to change his positions, his stance. The horses screamed as their riders fell, until the road was a bloody tangle of bodies.

But he was not free yet, two still remained, down from their mounts, using the animals for cover long enough to draw swords. They advanced on Haldir, faces grim, for even Ciren knew the elf facing them was deadly with the long blade at his hip.

They knew Haldir, March Warden of Lothlorien. His appearance numerous times over the years, not so much to meet with Lord Cathier, but an elderly woman who lived just north of the village in the foothills of the mountains, a witch many said.

It was ironic now that he had come for her mother, having passed through their village before, unaware of Ciren or Mirium's connections to his people.

Haldir flung the bow down to the ground, unsheathing the elvish blade at the same time, whirling to block the first guards strike easily, ducking the second with a flare of silver hair. The sound of the swords clashing, screeching, clanging forcefully echoed in the still night, the sound of each blow clenching Ciren's heart with fear.

She could not watch the elf's demise, feared ever finding her mother, still astride the elf's mare most likely, sent off to the gods knew where.

The sudden silence hit her squarely, her heart frozen in fear, only to have a set of fingers wrap around her wrist, jerking her roughly to her feet.

"I told you to meet us further in the valley, are you a fool?" Haldir's voice was icy, his grip ferocious on her wrist as he pulled her behind him down the road, still gripping his sword in one hand. They paused briefly for him to retrieve his bow, which he slung over his shoulder after sheathing his blade, and then she was nearly running behind him, hardly able to keep up with the elf's long strides, numb from shock to see he was still alive.

They hurried down the lane for some time, his expression hidden from her, only the broad set of his shoulders stiff with tension, the delicately made quiver still full of arrows strapped to his back, with strands of silver tangled into the fletchings. She could study him as much as she liked, for the moonlight lit the road nearly as well as the sun, leaving her enough light to see.

He did not seem concerned about walking the road, his legs far longer than hers, making her step three times to his one. His fingers were like iron, relentless, dragging her along behind him so rapidly she began to breathe heavily after only a short time.

"I can't keep this up, please you must slow down."

He stopped so suddenly she ran into his back, bouncing off the quiver to stagger several steps, suddenly free of the shackles of his fingers.

"Why did you not flee as I told you?"

Ciren rubbed her wrist, glaring at the furious elf in annoyance. "I was. You were on horseback, how am I to keep up on foot?"

"You should not have stopped."

She snorted rudely, chin lifted stubbornly. "And how was I to get through? Besides, I didn't know where my mother was, and I was sure you weren't going to make it."

Haldir's chin rose high, his grey eyes narrowed to slits. "You have little faith. Your mother is fine, I sent her on to wait for me at the stream."

Ciren gasped. "You sent her on alone? She has no idea where this stream is, are you daft?"

She had to back up when he took a step toward her angrily, and then seemed to gather himself, his jaw clenched tight. "My horse knows the stream of which I speak. I did not expect your mother to lead the horse."

Ciren laughed sourly. "Your horse? Does it talk too? My mother is frail. She's probably fallen off, and is lying dead somewhere. How dare you leave her so…"

She didn't get any further, for she was hauled violently against the elf's chest as he whirled around, somehow gathering the cloak she wore around them both. He thrust her backwards hard against the bole of a tree, his hand clamped over her mouth, his body pressed tightly against hers.

"Silence," he whispered harshly into her ear.

Her heart was beating so hard she could have sworn anyone would hear it, the elf's hand smooth against her lips, his breath warming her neck and chilling her both. He was solid, far more than she might have thought being an elf, his body a wall of muscle pressed against her slighter form, his thighs, chest, even his arms held a sense of unleashed power so strongly, she suddenly had no doubt he could have fought ten guards and won easily.

The clip clop of horses' hooves rang out in the silence, and their echo sent a tremor of fear racing down Ciren's spine. More guards no doubt, searching the roadside for the elf, for her. And they stood in plain sight!

The elf did not seem to be concerned, his breathing slow and measured, his cheek pressed momentarily to her forehead as he turned slightly to look.

All she could see was him, the curve of his jaw, still tight with anger, the fine texture of his skin, the elegant curve of his lips. His hair seemed to glow in the darkness, a beacon it would take only moments for the guards to see.

But they rode past without even slowing, eyes searching the shadows, but passing over the two of them without responding at all.

She couldn't believe it.

Haldir waited until they had passed for some time before he stepped back, unraveling them from his cloak, brushing away the hair that tangled in the clasp. Ciren smoothed her dress, her hands shaking, for as he waited she had become far too aware of the elf, of the feel of his body against hers and how much she liked it.

She was not as young as she seemed. Mirium had been very young when she'd met Elterion, Ciren appeared shortly after her mother reached nineteen.

Mirium was now nearly fifty, far too old in Ciren's mind to interest an elf who most likely still looked as he had when they had first met. Her mother was in for a broken heart and she couldn't stop it. Finding the elf so tantalizing was only the nail on the coffin, leaving her own heart fluttering in a way she did not want, and would refuse to acknowledge.

"We need to cross through the wood," Haldir said, scanning the forest around them. He looked down at her feet, at the serviceable shoes she had with a faint nod. "At least you have worn something suitable to walk in."

At least- she thought irritably, as if she had any other. She followed behind his tall form, stifling the angry retort that bubbled just inside her lips. She had little choice but to follow Haldir now, the guards had marked them all; even her she was sure, as outlaws.

They could never go back, their future, in her mind, seemed rather dim.

They found Mirium just as Haldir had said, waiting beside a shallow gurgling stream, sitting on a small rock, her cloak and blanket tucked securely around her. She smiled happily when they appeared, waving weakly to draw their attention.

"Oh there you are, I was beginning to wonder if you'd make it before sunrise."

Ciren snorted softly, her mother should have been wondering if the elf would have made it at all.

Mirium, however, seemed to have no doubts about Haldir's proficiency at battle, nor that he would return as he promised. Her smiles were all for him, her eyes sparkling in a way Ciren had never seen.

She'd kill Haldir and Elterion for making her hope, when all Ciren could see was tragedy.

The elves would not want them; to think they would welcome the aging woman into their fold seemed ludicrous. Lord Cathier had brought her before him too many times, ridiculing the elves, complaining about their two-faced lies, their reservation that clearly implied they felt superior. Haldir seemed to exemplify all those qualities, kind and yet, underneath, there was something else. She could feel it, had felt it in those tense few moments on the road.

They would take Mirium in only to reject her, perhaps not even that. Perhaps Haldir never even meant to take them to Lorién, but rather… She looked up, realizing her mother was watching her with a sad expression, while Haldir seemed to be waiting.

"I'm sorry," Ciren muttered, sure she'd missed something unflattering looking at the expression on the elf's face. "Did I miss something?"

Mirium sighed. "You must forgive her, March Warden, she has been taught far too little of you, and worse, lied to by my father. I am to blame fully, for I had not the will to defy his teachings, nor to tell her the truth."

Haldir scowled briefly, and then ignoring Ciren, turned to gather Mirium into his arms again to place her on the mare. How she had gotten off in her condition mystified Ciren, who followed behind them slowly, annoyed at the elf, irritated with her mother's unfailing support of a race who had abandoned her long ago.

Haldir led the way, the reins of the mare loose in his hand, traveling a path Ciren could not see, but found easy to walk. Mirium dozed on the horse, bundled warmly sometimes awake, sometimes not. The sun rose slowly, coloring the sky pink and mauve, fading to the soft blue of a summer's day.

The elf did not seem to tire, and he pushed them to the point where Ciren felt she couldn't take another step. Mirium was awake when he stopped, but tired as well, her face pale and wan as he pulled her carefully from the horse.

Laying her gently on a mossy area underneath a tree, he murmured something Ciren could not hear. Mirium sighed deeply, smiled faintly up at him and then promptly closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

Ciren watched in surprise and fear, her hands pressed against the pounding of her heart as the elf brushed his fingers over her mother's forehead, smoothing the damp strands of hair away from her eyes.

"What did you do!"

Haldir glanced over his shoulder, his gaze cool. "I've sent her to sleep, one that will help her recover her strength to continue."

"And I am supposed to trust you?" Ciren demanded stiffly.

Haldir rose to his feet smoothly, turning to face her. "Have you not already done so? Have I done anything to make you fear me?"

Ciren swallowed, unwilling to admit there had been several times he had terrified her. "No."

His smile said otherwise but he did not refute her lie. "I mean you no harm. What I have said is true, my intentions, the intentions of my people, remain the same."

Ciren watched him closely as he searched the forest nearby for branches, finally piling them into a small mound. He knelt beside the pile, and for the first time, Ciren saw him use his magic in a way she could see. He flicked his fingers, and then waved his hand slowly over the wood, until small stream of smoke began to rise from the twigs. In moments, a tiny fire flamed to life.

He looked up, his gaze mocking her disbelief.

"What else can you do?" Ciren whispered, chilled deeply by the sight.

"Many things. Why, does it frighten you?"

She couldn't explain her fear, unwilling to express the thought he might yet harm them. He seemed to understand, his mouth flat suddenly, his gaze hidden by a set of long dark lashes.

"I grow tired of having to defend my intentions," Haldir complained, rising to tend to his mare.

"I can't help it," Ciren replied, following him. "We've struggled far too long for me to be swept up in a hopeless fairy tale that everything will now be wonderful and fine." Ciren slumped against a rock, wrapping her arms around her knees. "We are outcasts now, without home nor future. I see nothing good about what you have done."

"You have little faith," he chided, dropping down beside her. He was lean, his legs long as he crossed his ankles, his boots worn by long wear. They were soft, the leather molded to his calves, buckled tight across the ankle and near the knee, embroidered with a subtle pattern of stitching that circled the leather with ivy and swirls, artful yet graceful as the elf wearing them.

She could admit that, glancing at him beneath her lashes, accepting the small biscuit he handed her with a frown. He was handsome, especially now that she saw him clearly in the daylight, his hair both blond and silver, his eyes smoky grey, with high cheekbones, dark brows and a strong nose. His lips were nicely shaped, his chin stubborn, framed by the long strands of hair that hung past his shoulders to drape against the grey tones of his tunic.

He seemed part of the forest, the colors of his attire much that of the wood around them, green and grey, charcoal and brown. The cloak she still wore seemed to disappear beneath her, so light it was weightless, yet she had not grown cold at all wearing it.

The fire crackled merrily, but emitted little smoke to give them away. Haldir bent over it for a moment, finding some small pot he'd tucked away in his pack, filling it with water from the stream. In moments, the water was boiling, and he threw in a few handfuls of herbs from a tiny velvet bag. The steam was aromatic, energizing. Ciren blinked, not surprised by the elf's herb lore, recognizing many of the herbs by their odor. Chamomile, mint, perhaps a touch of thyme, a tea meant to replenish the energy they had expended most of the day.

He poured a small amount in a tiny cup he produced from the pack from the mare and held it out to her.

"Drink. Or do you believe I poison you now?"

She took the cup and sipped the tea, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, it's all just so chaotic. Too much too fast," she complained into her tea.

"Indeed," the elf agreed dryly, settling beside her again.

He smelled like the wood, smoky almost, warm and intoxicating. She blinked when he reached out to touch her knees, still curled tight against her chest. "Relax, or you won't be able to stand."

It was already difficult to move, her body frozen in place, her legs not used to the long walk, atrophied, stiff from the exercise. She swore he was laughing as she struggled to stretch out, catching her as she lost her balance, as well as capturing the tiny elven cup as it fell from her hand.

Their eyes met, his full of amusement, his expression not so forbidding as it had been.

He was mesmerizing so close. It was no wonder her mother had fallen for one of his kind. If Elterion was anything like Haldir, she knew her mother had had no hope of fighting the attraction between them.

Nevertheless, she would, Ciren thought desperately. She would not fall into the same trap as Mirium had. But pulling away from that suddenly interested gaze was far from easy, and her heart thrummed loudly in her ears when she finally did; her blood felt like it was on fire, her hands shaking so much she refused to take the cup he held out once again.

He only smiled, and returned it to his pack, leaving her alone at the fire to gather her wits.

The next two days followed much as the first had. Haldir led the way, walking his mare, with Mirium riding, bundled in her blanket. Ciren followed behind, her thoughts muddled, her body exhausted by the end of the third day.

Haldir, however, did not seem tired at all. The fact annoyed her immensely, especially when he seemed so amused watching her stumble to the edge of the river. They had stopped along the bank, making camp on a set of wide flat rocks that made a perfect landing had not the river been so swift as it bore south. Haldir stood beside the water, his gaze turned from her, to scan the river intently.

"Is there danger, Haldir?" Mirium asked, sitting on a flat boulder nearby.

"Nothing as I can tell, but something stirs me to uneasiness," Haldir admitted.

Ciren sniffed, rubbing her knee which had begun to ache indomitably.

Haldir made camp, building the fire as he usually did, small and compact, one not meant to provide warmth, but merely as a way to make his tea and warm them some food. He caught a few fish, agilely lying on the rocks, his reach swift and sure into the frigid waters. Ciren had to admit she was fascinated by his skills, the differences that were so apparent the longer they were together from the men she knew.

Haldir rarely spoke more than he had to. His gaze was as sharp as a falcon, he seemed able to see things much further than she could, picking out a group of deer once as they walked that looked to her hardly more than a blur of brown against the forest behind it.

He could walk without any sound, making his way through a tangle of rotting leaves and sticks silently while she scrabbled and stumbled, earning her a roll of his eyes more than once.

Mirium only continued to gaze at him with a secretive smile, her cheerfulness growing each day, her eyes brighter.

Ciren grew angrier, fearing more each day the spell the elf wove over her mother, over her.

Haldir knelt down beside her, eying her hands. She released her knee and tucked them between her knees. "You are in pain?"

She shook her head stubbornly. "No, just stiff."

"Ciren!" Mirium admonished her from her place on the rock. "He can help you."

Ciren shook her head again and he rose to his feet with a shrug. "I cannot aid you if you refuse to accept it." He turned away and sat down near the edge of the forest behind them, cross-legged, pulling the arrows from his quiver.

Mirium moved slowly from her seat, dropping carefully beside Ciren with a sigh.

"You do not like him," Mirium declared softly.

Ciren glanced at the elf, watching him smooth the feathers on his arrows. "On the contrary, Mother, he seems very noble and kind." She wondered if Mirium caught the sarcasm behind that statement.

She did, frowning severely at Ciren. "He means well."

"For who, Mother." Ciren pressed her face into her hands. "I cannot bear the thought of how you will feel when he rejects you once again."

Mirium laughed softly. "I have no fear of that."

Ciren lifted her head to stare at her mother. "You are not the young woman he once knew."

Mirium shrugged. "I am well aware of that, child. As is he."

Ciren shook her head, rubbing her temples. "How can you be so sure, how can you accept all this? Like some magical fairy tale, all of a sudden we are no longer poor and down-trodden? All of a sudden this elf has come to save us?" She snorted, sending the elf a glare.

Haldir felt the anger as much as saw the glare she sent, sighing inwardly at her stubbornness, yet understanding the fear that lay beneath it as well. He smoothed the feathers under his fingers gently, soothed by the chore, yet still felt uneasy.

The river protected their back, the flat area where they had made camp easily watched, yet he still did not feel comfortable. Something was amiss, something tangible he could almost taste.

He could feel it on the air, the wind that fluttered the tendrils of smoke around the fire, lifted the strands of his hair as he bent over the fire to tend the coals.

He could sense it in the tips of his fingers, a faint tingling warning he was a fool to ignore.

He was in a dangerous position, armed with few weapons, with a near invalid woman and unruly girl to protect.

Both were difficult. The woman for her incapacity to run, even to hang on to his horse should he send her away. Ciren's fear that her mother might fall from the horse was a valid one, even though he had not acknowledged that to her.

And Ciren, herself, was trouble. He doubted she would do as he asked if they were attacked, stubbornly refusing to believe he knew best, unwilling to put herself under his control.

He felt like tying the wench to his horse if only for the peace of mind it would give him.

He looked up with a sigh, hoping that he was mistaken about the warnings, but froze when he saw that Ciren was not with her mother.

"Where is she?" Haldir asked sharply, rising swiftly to his feet.

Mirium yawned and waved her hand weakly. "She left just a moment ago, Haldir. She will be right back."

He strode to the edge of the rock, torn between staying to protect the woman or searching for the girl. He wanted to strangle her for leaving, foolish to the point of stupidity in his mind, the danger paramount, the chances of being…

Ciren appeared in front of him and then stopped warily when she caught his expression.

"What?"

He felt the fury flood his blood, and knowing if he did not release it she would suffer the consequences, strode past her. "I will return momentarily. Do not leave the camp again."

She watched him leave with a startled expression, and then he was deep in the wood, striding among the ferns rapidly until he could breathe again, leaning his hands against the comforting bark of a willow, surrounded by the weeping fronds of its leaves.

"I have no strength for this task," he muttered in frustration. "I will go mad with worry when I should be focused on the danger that surrounds us."

He had left them alone, allowed his emotion to determine his actions. Haldir growled at himself, annoyed by his own manipulation, and turned back toward the river. His steps had taken him further than he thought, and by the time he reached the rocky camp the sun was nearly behind the horizon. Mirium lay in her blankets near the fire, asleep, while Ciren crouched near the water, staring at him over her shoulder in surprise.

"I didn't think you'd be back so soon," she said thickly.

He stared at her, realizing too late she had removed her dress, huddled against his sight with her arms over her chest. He turned on his heel and sank down to the ground instantly.

"Forgive me, I did not realize."

He heard her laugh, a sound he'd not heard from her. It was soft, a trill that tickled his senses.

"I find that hard to believe, March Warden," she replied with some sarcasm. "I thought the elves saw everything."

They did, when thinking clearly.

He shook his head. "Be careful, the water is swift, the current dangerous there."

Her dress rustled, making him wonder if she was putting it on or off further. He felt a rush of heat rise inside his chest and began to breathe deeply.

"I am not getting in the water," she muttered. He could hear her teeth chattering. "I just wanted to rinse off some of this dust."

There was silence from behind him, and he turned enough to watch for her out of the corner of his eye, concerned. A mistake. Silhouetted by the fire he could see her well enough, the pale skin as she stood shivering, the fall of her hair. He stared at it, for until now it had been bound tightly into a braid at her back. Silvery blond as his own, it hung thickly down her side as she untangled the strands, hiding and yet revealing the rest of her to his growing discomfort.

She caught him staring, her eyes growing wide, frozen in place.

He rose to his feet, aware her mother slept a few steps away, and crossed the camp quickly, sweeping up his cloak as he did. He threw it around her shoulders, lifting her into his arms.

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

"Something I've wanted to do since I first saw you," he growled, leaving the light of the fire, stepping into the wood until they were immersed in shadow. He dropped her to her feet, tugged the cloak closer around her body, and then shook her roughly.

"Have you no sense?" he hissed angrily. "You are in the middle of the forest with a man, no weapons and little to protect you. Are you such a fool? Or do you know exactly what you do, woman?"

She struggled in his grasp, angry at his accusations. "How dare you! I did nothing wrong. I only needed to bathe. It's not my fault you're not noble enough to look away!"

No, he'd not been able to look away, a fact that annoyed him immensely. "You play with fire, Ciren. What would you have done had I not been there at the inn?"

"Nothing, I didn't need to. They would not have harmed me," she declared sharply.

"No?" Haldir growled. "Are you so sure? What about me?"

Her intake of breath was audible, her eyes wide, blue and full of fear suddenly. He could not stop the impulse, one he'd felt the moment he saw her, and kissed her, hard, dragging her unwillingly to his chest. She struggled in the brief moment his lips crushed hers and then he let her go, striding from her, back to the brightly burning fire. He waited for her to follow, forcing his expression into one of bland disinterest, cursing the desire that rattled his mind.

She brushed past him haughtily, gathered her dress from the ground, and then went back into the shadows to put it on. He watched her for a moment, marking where she hid, and then crouched down at the fire, despising himself for his actions, and wanting only to do it again.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: An Unexpected Destiny

Author: Fianna (with lots of help by Julie)

Rating: R for violence and mild sexual situations.

Disclaimer: Tolkien (his estate rather) owns the characters of LOTR, I borrow them only for pleasure.

UNEXPECTED DESTINY

CHAPTER THREE: Lorién

She slept fitfully, tossing on the hard ground, aware of the elf only footsteps away. Her mother slept deeply, one of exhaustion, of illness as yet, and Ciren was jealous, wishing only to fall into such oblivion instead of the chaotic dreams she had instead.

Dreams where the elf was prominent, her heart racing as he drew closer, both from fear and desire. Dreams of being rejected, lashed at for being tainted, seeing the elves laughing at her, turning their backs. She woke weeping silently.

He was standing at the edge of the river, the sunlight behind them just over the horizon, the rays turning the long mane of his hair to a golden sheen. He was fully dressed, his cloak replaced around his shoulders, hers folded neatly over his arm.

"Why do you weep?" he said quietly when she sat up.

"It's nothing," Ciren muttered, shivering in the cool air. He held out her cloak, challenging her with his eyes to refuse. She rose to her feet and reached for it, slipping it from his fingers jerkily to toss it around her shoulders.

"I apologize for last night. My mind is as yet unsettled."

She wanted to know why, but did not ask, lowering her lashes to watch him turn back to the river.

"Must I fear you?"

"Nay, I will not touch you again."

She felt deflated somewhat, her blood was already rushing through her veins at being so close to him, remembering the feel of his body against her, and now his lips. She shivered, earning a concerned glance from him.

"Have you taken a chill?"

She shook her head, backing up a bit, wary of the hand that had reached out. "No, I'm fine. Just cool, thank you."

He nodded faintly. "We must leave soon. The way is yet far, another three days and then one along the base of the mountains."

She wanted to weep; her feet ached already.

"I can relieve your ills, if you but accept it."

"If I need you, I will ask," Ciren responded dryly.

He nodded faintly again and touched his brow. "Do not be stubborn." He withdrew, moving to his mare to gather their things. Ciren shivered again, pulling her gaze from the elf with a sigh.

He had kept as far from her as he could. The days had passed infinitely slowly, his awareness of her like a flame in his mind, refusing to be tendered, flaring to life whenever she drew closer. He could smell her scent, a clean crisp smell of the sun, the wind off the sea. Her eyes changed from blue to grey without reason, it seemed, wide when they fell on him, narrowed against the wind that pushed them back as they crossed the deep chasm through the mountains.

Mirium was weakening, the toll of the journey heavy on her heart. He worried he would not get her to Elterion before her weakness grew so great they could not save her.

Ciren had grown silent, no longer complaining, no longer sullen as she had been. He did not know why, but thanked the Valar for one less worry.

She watched him, intently at times, from beneath her dark lashes, unaware what the look did to him. He withdrew then, putting as much space between them as he could, unable to be sure his control would not fail him yet again.

When they reached the hills above Lorién, he was overjoyed, his heart full, the love for the golden boughs below him so strong he felt like weeping. It was the same each time he left, the same each time he returned. He would never leave her until he was called to the West.

He could only hope that would be long in the future.

Ciren appeared beside him, wrapped in her cloak and his, for he had seen her shivering. "Is that it?"

He glanced at her, lifting a brow at her question. "Aye."

She let out a deep breath. "It's beautiful, Haldir."

He nodded, drawing back a step. "Indeed. We will be within her borders by nightfall."

She watched him return to Mirium without expression, her lips pursed in thought.

The wood did not seem terribly imposing from outside. Ciren studied the great boughs over her head as they walked, noting the trees were those with which she was familiar: Oak, Ash, some Cherry. Trees she knew, plants that every forest had. Why then, did everyone seem so fearful of the elven realm? All the stories told of the Lady of Light, of fearful elves that never let anyone go once they crossed the borders, how evil the wood itself was, swallowing up the unwary soul who stumbled inside.

She scoffed at the stories, finding the forest nothing like the nightmares she had been told, unmoved by the shadows of the forest floor, hardly nervous of the elf leading them at all.

Until he looked back, ducking beneath the reins of his mare, his eyes bright with mischief.

She frowned, about to remark on his amusement, but then realized she was surrounded by elves.

She froze, clutching the edges of her cloak tightly around her, facing not one but four tall blond haired creatures dressed so closely in the tones of the forest she had not seen them at all.

They stared at her, at Mirium, curiously, moving closer, hardly a step from her, all fair haired and handsome, while Haldir moved back to speak to one alone.

"She is fair enough," one of the elves said with a grin.

"Silver hair, might be Elterion's," another mused in amusement.

"Her mother is as fair as a rose in Galadriel's garden," a third commented, but his eyes held Ciren's intently, filled with something she was afraid to name.

Mirium watched them all calmly, her face wreathed in smiles, eyes overly bright.

Ciren drew her cloak tighter, suddenly extremely uncomfortable beneath all the scrutiny. Haldir suddenly appeared beside her astride another white mare, and leaned down to offer his hand.

"We shall move faster by horse, your mother tires even now."

The elves stepped back, saluting Haldir with a touch to their brows, if with no restraint on the looks they continued to give Ciren. She looked up at Haldir, noting his impatience, aware the elves noted it as well and were amused.

He lifted her up behind him with a faint grunt of annoyance, and kicked the mare gently forward, drawing Mirium behind them. In moments, they were once again alone in the forest, hidden beneath the trees overhead that no longer looked familiar.

It took most of the day to enter deep into the wood, finally crossing a swift and icy stream to enter an area that was more like the tales she had heard. It was thick with trees that stood far over her head, filtered here and there with the more familiar oaks and maple, dwarfed though by the taller ones, with boughs heavy with golden leaves. The lower floor of the wood was littered with smaller versions of the strange trees, giving her a chance to see their unique shape. Mellyrn, trees grown only here, and a treasured part of the forest it was said. She could imagine why, they were spectacular.

The shadows were deep, her nerves growing tauter with each step, even as she clung unconsciously to the elf in front of her.

Mirium seemed oblivious to it all, her eyes growing glassy, her seat on the horse beginning to waver. Haldir seemed to look back as much as forward until finally he dismounted so swiftly she was startled, able to reach Mirium just as she fainted, sliding off the horse into his arms.

Ciren would have climbed off the mare, but Haldir commanded her to stay, placing Mirium back on her horse and leaping up behind her.

"We must hurry," he said with a growl to the horse beneath him. He let go of her mare's reins and urged his animal forward. It leaped through the trees, and it was all Ciren could do to keep up with the elf, hanging on for dear life as her own horse followed as well as she could.

The walls of the elven city appeared suddenly, one moment part of the forest and then suddenly there. Haldir rode through the gates without hardly slowing, calling to one of the elves, and then dismounted gracefully before the horse had completely stopped. He pulled Mirium off to bundle her into his arms, his face grim. Mirium only moaned, a rag doll in the elf's arms.

Ciren slid off the mare, stumbled in her haste, and found a hand on her elbow, holding her back from following Haldir.

"You must wait here," the elf at her side said quietly, his voice heavily accented, melodic, a drawl that sounded faintly like Haldir's.

"That's my mother," Ciren declared, jerking her elbow free. "I will go where she is!"

The elf sighed, his lips curved faintly. His eyes twinkled at her, deep blue, almond shaped in high cheekbones. "I feared you would insist. Haldir will not be pleased."

Ciren scowled at him. He was not as tall as Haldir, slimmer, with darker blond hair. "How do you know he won't be pleased? We just arrived." She glanced at the path Haldir had taken impatiently.

"Trust me, I know when Haldir is displeased," the elf remarked dryly. "Would you not prefer to change, perhaps to bathe, eat?"

She looked at the elf, the mention of bathing bringing a flush to her cheeks that lifted the elf's brow curiously. "I want to see my mother."

He bowed deeply, his hair slipping down over his shoulder. "As you wish."

It took them a few moments, climbing a number of stairs, crossing walkways filled with curious eyes. The elves bowed graciously when they passed, she was sure for the elf at her side, for he seemed to hold some rank.

They arrived at an area marked with flowing silver flags of white, with a few low silk tents. The elf led to one of the tents that had the door tied open, and then gestured for her to go in.

The light was quite bright inside, lit by several covered candles, plus the light that filtered in through the tent itself. Haldir stood in the corner, his arms folded while Mirium lay on a low cot, her hand grasped tightly in the hands of another elf, while yet another stood over her, watching them closely.

Haldir looked up when she entered with a frown and moved quickly to her side, catching her arm to hold her against him when she would have rushed forward.

"Give her a moment."

Mirium lay quietly, her breathing shallow and labored, but she smiled at the elf at her side.

"It's been a long time, Elterion," she whispered, her eyes moving over the elf's face as if memorizing his features.

Elterion smiled, lifting her hand to his lips. "I have waited as I said I would, Mirium."

She closed her eyes, a sob escaping her lips, only to be gathered into his arms, weeping. "I did not ever think I would see you again. My father would not allow me to see you, and then the lies that he told. . . I am so sorry."

He held her close until her weeping stopped and she fell into a restless sleep, brought on Ciren was sure, by the elf standing over her. The healer pressed her back into the pillows, brushing her forehead much like Haldir had done, and then spoke quietly to Elterion. He rose with a nod and then turned toward Haldir and Ciren, his face grave, his eyes settling on her intently.

Her father. Ciren could not imagine it, nor hardly believe the tall creature staring at her could be the father she'd always wanted, hated, and missed since she was old enough to remember such things.

"I had hoped to meet you where the sun is bright, not in a gloomy tent of a healer," he said quietly, ignoring the annoyed snort of the elf behind him. He smiled faintly and waved a hand toward the door. "Haldir, if you would be so kind?"

Ciren found herself led outside. Elterion followed a moment later, releasing the ties that held the door open to the tent so that the panels fell closed. He stood for a moment, his long hair tied back behind his head, dressed in a long robe of mossy green, and then finally turned to face Ciren.

"What did you do to my mother?" Ciren demanded.

Elterion lifted a brow, silver nearly, with a glance at Haldir. "I have done nothing but greet her as I would, for one who was taken from me long ago. She is merely sleeping. The healers will do as they can tomorrow, but for now she simply needs to rest."

Ciren sniffed. "There is little you can do. She has been ill for some time." She didn't want to say Mirium had nearly given up, and pushed the horrible thought away.

"Oh the contrary, I think we can do much to improve her health. But there is more that we, you and I, need to speak of," the elf declared softly.

Ciren felt Haldir release her elbow and a flush of panic engulf her. She was alone, she didn't want to talk to this elf, she wasn't ready to acknowledge the ties that bound them, for even now she could hardly accept it, did not want to accept it, fearing only this was only a dream, that she'd wake to find them once again cold and hungry, her mother near death.

She whirled around to look up at Haldir, the only anchor she had at the moment, unwilling as she was to use him, she threw her arms around his waist and burrowed deep into his chest, pressing her face against the warm texture of his tunic, aware instantly of his stiffness, the muscles rigid beneath her cheek.

His arms, however, did encircle her, if briefly, an acknowledgement of her need. "Perhaps after she has rested as well, Elterion, the journey has been difficult."

She heard the other elf grunt faintly, the rustle of his robes as he moved away. Haldir pushed her back from his chest gently, his lips curved into a frown, his brows creased beneath the silver hair.

"He will not harm you."

Ciren gathered herself, moving further back from the tantalizing warmth of the elf, aware suddenly that Elterion had not argued at all, but had accepted Haldir's command instantly. The elf that had brought her to the tent stood patiently beside the walkway, arms folded over his 

chest, dressed much as Haldir was in a tunic and leggings, grey and brown, and a long cloak of that indeterminate color like the one she had worn of Haldir's.

She realized suddenly it was a uniform of sorts, not identical, but similar, something that would blend into the wood, the forest. Many of the other elves she had passed had worn nothing like it at all, but rather the long robes as Elterion had done, heavy or light, embroidered richly or simply, but far different from the more rugged and earthy clothing the two elves beside her wore.

She stared at Haldir and then at the other curiously. "I gather he is one of your … elves," she said a bit lamely, unable to conjure the word to describe them. What had her mother called Haldir, March Warden?

Haldir smiled fondly at the elf. "My brother Rumil," he said with a wave. "He is one of my wardens. Should you need anything, you have only to ask, but I will also place a warden at your disposal. Rumil will take you to your talan, where you can rest as well."

She nodded, pulling her cloak tight as Rumil bowed before her. Brother? She glanced between them quickly as he drew her down the walkway. Brother? She had a difficult time seeing Haldir as a young person, with brothers.

"He is not so bad," Rumil was saying at her elbow, guiding her effortlessly through the maze she would come to know as Caras Galadhon.

"Who?" Ciren asked, her thoughts on Haldir.

"Elterion," Rumil replied, his lips twitching faintly when she looked up at him.

"Oh," Ciren said with an effort to push Haldir from her mind. "I suppose. I have no wish to know him."

The elf clicked his tongue in exasperation, his fingers tight on her elbow. "You are stubborn, indeed. But given time, perhaps you will change your mind."

How much time did they expect her to take? Her future was so muddled she refused to dwell on it, fearing the worst. She would take it a moment at a time. Right now, her mother was sleeping fairly restfully. That was a good thing.

The elf led her up a long series of stairs that wound around one of the largest trees she had ever seen, grey barked and smooth, one of the mighty Mellyrn she had seen earlier. They cradled the city high in their canopy, the lights of the buildings twinkling in the shadowy green depths, rays of light spilling through the gaps in an ethereal dance of dust motes and floating bits of cotton, leaves and things she could not name.

Mystical, mysterious, even the elves as they passed them seemed distant, untouchable. Ciren continued up the stairs, noting that many of the elves bowed to Rumil as he passed.

"You must be highly ranked," she said, after one particular elf bowed low, his robes sweeping behind him as he turned out of their way.

"I am a warden," Rumil replied, his voice melodic, yet it held an undercurrent of steel she found somewhat unsettling. "We are the guardians of the wood, and of the Galadhrim. We have earned the respect of those who do not fight."

Ciren nodded. "I see."

Rumil chuckled softly. "Do you? Haldir is the March Warden, our leader. He stands only below Celeborn and the Lady herself."

Ciren blinked, startled. "Why would they endanger someone so important by sending him out into Arda then?"

Rumil laughed, his fingers drawing her back along his side when she stopped to stare at him. "Haldir can well take care of himself. Besides, there are few of our realm so willing to travel and learn the ways of the outsiders. It is only by his prodding that I can speak to you so well."

She had to admit Rumil's grasp of her tongue was not as keen as Haldir's, who spoke with hardly any accent at all.

"So do you have any other family? Sisters, your mother and father, do they live here as well?"

Rumil shook his head, stopping beside a small building nearly wrapped with branches, tucked deep into their embrace. He pulled open the door and then ushered her inside.

"Our parents left for the West long ago, when Orophin and I were very young. Haldir has raised us since we were elflings. There are no more."

She didn't comment, turning instead to look at the small room he had brought her to. It was not large, but open; the surrounding branches seemed to shield her from the outside forest, their leaves whispering in the soft breeze. Airy, sheer curtains hung along most of the walls, shivering in the wind, some of them lifting up to flap quietly and then settled back to lie against the wall. A low bed curved along the wall full of pillows and cozy linens. Several small tables littered the area, and a chair sat beside one window invitingly, with a lamp and tray of food beside it.

Rumil let her go, and went to the tray, picking up a grape to pop it into his mouth. "Eat, drink, take a nap. You may do as you like." He smiled, placing a hand over his heart. "I will be outside should you need me, until later this evening."

He strode to the door, pausing at her wide eyes.

"So I am a prisoner to be watched?"

He frowned, turning from the door. "Nay, hardly that. Only new to Caras Galadhon, and unaware of where things may be. You do Haldir a disservice if you think he meant to harm you in any way."

She blushed, turning away, sure the elf could not know of the tension between Haldir and her.

When she looked back over her shoulder, Rumil was watching her intently, an odd smile on his face. "I will be just outside should you need me," he reminded her, pulling the door open. "For anything," he added with a wink, and then shut the door.

What had he meant by that, she wondered a bit uneasily, sitting down in the chair. She poured a small glass of water and then stared out the window. Haldir had brothers, had lost his parents at an early age, and was an elf of extremely high rank.

She shivered.

Haldir paced the floor of his talan, hands clasped behind his back, a frown creasing his brows.

"Was that wise putting Rumil as her first guard?" Orophin asked quietly, his nose behind one of the books of poetry Haldir owned, his fine brows lifted in amusement.

"He is not a guard," Haldir responded dryly. "Merely …"

"What?" Orophin continued lazily, turning a page in the book. "She is not one of us, so she merits a guard, no matter that Elterion sits with her mother constantly with such a fierce expression even the healers fear to go near." The warden watched Haldir pace, his gaze measured, calculating.

"She is here on Galadriel's behalf," Haldir countered coolly. "I posted Rumil there only in case she should need something."

"One of the elven servers would have sufficed for that," Orophin suggested mildly.

Haldir stopped pacing to laugh briefly. "Orophin, brother, that would be the worst thing I could do. I have no doubt what must run through her mind even now."

"A challenge then," the warden smirked. "I see."

Haldir turned toward Orophin, his brows lifted in annoyance. "You see what?"

The elf rose to his feet, placing Haldir's book back in its place. "Why nothing at all, Haldir. I think I shall retire for the evening, perhaps garner a lady to converse with quietly." Orophin reached for the door, but Haldir caught his wrist, turning him to face him.

"You will leave her be."

Orophin lifted a brow innocently. "Who, brother?"

"You know who. Leave her alone, she does not trust the elves as it is."

Orophin snorted softly in amusement. "You have not been able to convince her that our intentions are good? What have you been doing on this journey, March Warden?"

"I have done what I could," Haldir ground out between clenched teeth. "You will not undo what I have done so far."

Orophin grinned, jerking free of Haldir's grip. "I will be interested to see what you have done," he said, and touching his forehead, Orophin slipped out of the door.

Haldir glared at the empty room and then folded himself into a chair with a groan.

He lay awake, unable to fall into reverie, his mind swirling with thoughts he should not have been thinking.

The moon was full, the light glancing off the edges of the window beside his bed, sending shadows deep across his room even as it lit the talan brightly.

Had she settled, he wondered. He had not spoken to Rumil. Nor had he checked to make sure Orophin had done as he asked and left the woman be.

Finding her had been his only mission, bringing her back had been Galadriel's wish yet she would have accepted his decision if he had not, trusting him completely.

He had not expected his emotions to become tangled into his duty at all.

Haldir sat up with a growl, tossing his pillow onto the floor. It would do no good to go to the girl, she was not for him to take, nor dally with.

He did not care that her blood was not fully elven, nor that she was young, but he could not add to the confusion Ciren was already facing, her fear of what might yet come.

His body did not seem to agree, rising at the thought of her, his blood flowing hot.

He would swim, he decided, to cool his thoughts and blood.

An hour later, he stood shaking off the drops of water clinging to his hair, shoving the sodden mass behind his shoulder. Dressed only in his leggings, he strode back along the narrow paths of the undergrowth, lit dimly with a few lanterns along the way, more for decoration than light.

He had passed beneath several of the main walkways, past the healing areas, and nearer to the guest quarters when he realized where his feet had taken him.

With a curse, he turned around, but froze, cocking his head carefully. Someone was weeping, softly, as if not to be heard.

He ran up the stairs, leaping them two at a time, silently. The first landing lay in shadow, the arched braces flaring high overhead, with a small area set aside for seating, covered in vines.

A private place among the well traveled paths.

Haldir pushed aside a low hanging vine. "What do you do here?"

Ciren sat up, wiping her hand across her cheek rapidly and then stood trembling, blinking in the dim light.

Haldir reached out, grasping her wrist to pull her closer, aware of the fear that made her body stiff, struggling in his grasp. "Be still, it is I, Haldir."

She quieted instantly, but did not relax. "Let me go."

"Nay, I would ask how you evaded my warden?"

"So I _am_ a prisoner," Ciren whispered. Her breathing was heavy, her body trembling under his hands.

"Nay you are not," he declared coolly. "But you should not be wandering the paths at night."

"I was trying to find my mother," she said.

"At this time of night?" Haldir replied irritably. "She is doing well, have they not told you?"

Ciren shivered violently, drawing her cloak closer around her body. "They did, your brother did, but I had a dream she was calling to me, weeping. I could not find her, Haldir. She needs me and I can't find her." She began to weep again, racking sobs that she struggled to control.

Haldir pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly, expressly aware of her touch against his bare skin, her breath that tickled his chest. "She is well, sleeping deeply, Ciren. Trust me."

"Have I little choice?" she demanded in a tear-filled voice. "You control our future. Once your Lady understands how I am tainted, she will cast me out, just like my grandfather."

Haldir wanted to shake her, but gripped her arms firmly instead, forcing her to look at him. "We will not cast you out; your blood is not tainted."

"Would you accept a half blood," she declared her eyes wide, rose petal lips parted, waiting.

Haldir stared at the moist lips, his body reacting instantly, his breath shallow suddenly. With effort, he pulled his gaze from her mouth to her eyes, his grip on her arms tight. "Would you wish it?" he whispered harshly, struggling to control his own desire. "I think not."

He let her go, putting some space between them.

She stared at him, trembling visibly, fingers tangled in the cloak she'd worn, gripping it tight to her chest. "Not true," she replied in a low voice. "You touch me in ways I have not experienced. I do not know if what I feel is my own or something you have spelled over me."

He studied her intently. "I have no need to use magic," he declared, measuring her, anticipating her reaction to his words.

He was not disappointed, for her eyes widened further, her fingers nearly white on the cloak. He drew a step closer, aware of her deep intake of breath. "You are but an innocent," he whispered, turning to lean closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear. "You have no idea what it is you want."

She stood stiffly, her chin high as she watched him. "No? I don't suppose I do, but I am not a fool. Whatever it is, you feel much the same."

He nearly laughed, for it was true. "Indeed, you think so?"

Her lips grew flat, her eyes accusing. "If not, then why did you kiss me?"

Because he had wanted to, then and now, and had lost his control. It would not happen again. He only smiled wolfishly. "Perhaps to test the waters to see if, indeed, my first thoughts of you were true or not."

Her eyes opened wide, her lips parted indignantly, and then her hand flew out, her palm cracking hard against his cheek, a blow he could have caught but did not.

He deserved the slap, but still gritted his teeth, slowly turning his head back to face her. "Deserved," he stated coldly. "Forgive me."

"I have no idea your motives, March Warden. On one hand you have rescued my mother and I from hell, yet you fling me into a world just as terrible. I do not thank you for what you have done, and can only hope my mother will find some happiness for the short time that she has left. Good night." Ciren shoved past him, hurrying up the stairs without looking back.

Haldir could only watch her flight, knowing their lives had become tangled far worse than he could have imagined.

Ciren moved as slowly as she could, fighting the fierce urge to flee, to run pell mell from the elf, trying hard to block out the images that coursed through her mind. She swept up the steps, unwilling to look back to see if he watched, unwilling to admit the elf frightened her and tantalized her more every time she saw him.

Here in his element he seemed even more intimidating, surrounded by the things he knew well, whereas she was floundering in a sea of uncertainty and fear.

She was drowning, unable to grasp hold of anything, swept into a churning violent torrent from which she could not break free.

She reached the top of the stair, her vision blurred, her hand still tingling from the force of her blow against Haldir's cheek, unable to get the image of him from her mind, the expression of surprise and anger, the smoldering grey of his eyes filled with both fury and something more.

She refused to name the emotion, refused to acknowledge what he might be feeling. It was too painful, too debased for her to think about. It was obvious he had not believed her, thought she was the lowest kind of woman, to sell herself to men like those in her village. The idea horrified her, for as poor as they had been, she had always held herself better than that, willing to do the most degrading of work, but never that. Never!

So to know Haldir thought such things of her hurt, almost more than the derision flung on her from her grandfather, his accusations of her inferiority, her taint. None would want her, he had told her often enough, as a child and later, unknown to her mother, as a young woman.

Perhaps he had been right, perhaps not.

Haldir wanted her, he could lie and say not; she knew passion when she saw it, felt it on her lips when he'd kissed her, knew it instinctively through the very touch of his fingers.

Yet he was fighting it, horrified by his attraction?

She had to assume it was so.

She didn't hear the footsteps rushing toward her from behind, her mind so fraught with her despair. Didn't sense the elf at all, nor his determination, unaware of the strength of will guiding his steps.

Only when he was right behind her, her hand reaching the handle of her door did she sense him. And only because he reached out his arm in front of her, blocking her way inside.

She froze, heart pounding at his nearness, cursing the rush of warmth that he incited, even in her anger with him.

He breathed heavily, as if he'd run a long distance, fingers curved against the wooden door.

"My words were meant to hurt, but were untrue."

She knew it was an apology, or the beginnings of one. Would she accept it?

"Why?" she whispered, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

He exhaled noisily, and then grasped the handle to the door, flinging it open to push her inside, following closely. The door shut with a resounding click, locking her inside with Haldir.

"Because you rise to the bait so well, it proves to me you are not, more than anything else."

"I don't understand," Ciren complained, watching the elf move around the small room like a caged cat. She swallowed, aware of the sense of power he held checked, the frustration exposed only briefly in the grey eyes, hidden by the long lashes when he turned away to stare out the window.

"You are too young to understand, to know the power of desire, what it can and cannot do."

"Do you fear it?" she asked bravely.

He sent her a feral smile over his shoulder. "Always."

"Why did you come? Why take us into your lands when it will only cause more heartache?"

"It was not meant to," he said, leaning against the frame of the window, his fingers white against the wood.

"No? You did not mean any harm, did not mean to uproot what stability we had, for what?"

He turned around, his face suddenly expressionless, controlled. "For what? Have you forgotten your mother?"

Ciren snorted. "Of course not, but she lived for thirty years with the pain, a few more would have had little more effect."

"So you would not give her a chance at some happiness?"

Ciren felt the blood drain from her face. "Of course I want that, but will she have it?"

Haldir met her gaze unblinkingly. "Yes. Elterion hovers about her even now, unwilling to move from her side. He loves her truly, Ciren."

It was a blow perhaps, that her mother would find her happiness so late. Ciren sank down on the bed, unaware of the heated glance from the elf. "I cannot give her less."

"You do not believe we can heal her."

Ciren looked up, her eyes blurred. "Can you?"

"Aye. She will not die tomorrow, Ciren, but live many more years."

The tension between them was still there, a wire of energy connecting her to the elf. "And what of me?"

Haldir gave another of his wolfish smiles, if a bit less potent this time. "You are the reason I came for you." His eyes were dark, shadowed by the window behind him, his lips curved mockingly.

"Me?"

"It is because Galadriel saw you that we knew Mirium was still alive, much to Elterion's shock. He'd been told she died long ago."

Ciren didn't doubt it. "Why would she see me? I am unimportant."

Haldir snorted softly. "On the contrary, you have elven blood. All children of the firstborn are important as there are so few."

She blinked, and found Haldir closer. "Your words contradict much of your actions."

He smiled ferociously, a wolf in sheep's clothing. "Aye, my heart wars with my duty."

"You were leaving; you never meant to take me with you."

"A mistake had I done so."

She wanted to flee again, his proximity to her, on the bed, was too much. She rose to her feet, moved a step and found him there, blocking her way.

"What do you want from me," Ciren hissed, trembling as his hands dropped to her arms. He leaned toward her, his intention clear. Like a rabbit caught in the gaze of the wolf, she froze, unable to bolt, unable to move muscles stiff with fear, but beneath that was the desire he'd spoken of. That rush of heat that went right to her hips, the very center of her being.

She fought the fear, fought the involuntary reaction to his nearness. She was angry that he exuded such a powerful need she was nearly swallowed by it, by her own that rose to meet his.

He was going to kiss her again, his lips hovered just inches from hers, his eyes closed, the lashes dark against his cheeks, his mouth curved just enough to hint at a smile.

"Say no and I will leave," he whispered.

She trembled in his grasp, closed her eyes as his mouth pressed against her neck, slid up to her jaw and then breathed against her ear. "I can teach you many things, Ciren. Desire, pleasure you cannot imagine, but offer you little more."

She struggled to open her eyes, her heart pounding, her throat tight against the assault of his lips once again. "Why would I expect you to give me more than that? You don't even know me."

He gave a throaty laugh, but then the sound faded away as he slid an arm behind her back, catching her chin in one hand. "You are not as innocent as you seem."

"But I am not what you thought either," she declared in a thick voice. It had been a long time ago, a fumbling encounter that left her rather disgusted. Few wanted to bother her, not with the taint hanging over her, her grandfather's hatred. Few were interested, most only wanted to see what she was.

Haldir released her, stepping back but not far, keeping her within his reach. "My words were more a result of my attraction, which I have tried to suppress."

She blinked, and would have turned away but for his grip on her arm. He stood there, his eyes darkly grey, heated, his expression unreadable other than the desire in his eyes. "Don't bother," she hissed. "I need not your pity."

A slim brow lifted, and she saw a trace of irritation crease his brow. "Stop it. If I pitied you it would be only because you have been kept from your elven blood."

His fingers were like iron. How many times had he touched her like this, controlling, angry, fierce. She couldn't deny that he excited her, even in his anger.

He studied her, hand gripping her wrist, wreathed in a ray of moonlight that turned his hair nearly blue, naked to the waist, dressed only in his leggings. A fact she had tried to ignore since she had first encountered him this evening. His chest heaved faintly, his free hand was curled over his thigh, close yet distant. What would it take to break his reserve, to snap his control?

Did she want to break it, or did she want him to leave her, alone and rejected once again.

She pulled her wrist tentatively, testing his will, fingers clenched tight. Would he release her, step back?

He did not. He resisted her retreat with a dangerous smile. "You really do not want that."

She blinked slowly, holding her breath as he lifted her wrist, stepping closer at the same time as his lips pressed on the inside of her arm, tickling the sensitive skin, electrifying the nerves in her whole body.

"What is your answer, Ciren?"

She struggled to breathe, the room hot suddenly, closed in. Haldir's eyes were hooded, waiting for her answer. She'd been attracted to him since the first time he'd touched her, in the inn. His protectiveness had surprised her, much as the awareness she had of him at that instant, of the power he had had, the challenge he'd presented not only to Fen, but to all the men in the pub.

No one had been willing to cross the elf.

Would Fen have broken off his advances had she pressed him further? She honestly had to wonder. She'd pushed him, goaded him into his display, finally tired of the insults, the men's looks that said she was lower than low.

But Haldir was not looking at her with derision, or repugnance. He was staring at her with eyes on fire. She lifted her chin, terrified suddenly that he might yet retreat, tiring of her reluctance. She inhaled a wobbly breath and reached out to brush the tips of her fingers against the smooth skin of his chest. She kept her eyes on her fingers, knowing they trembled as she touched him, felt his muscles contract at the contact.

"Do you really want to do this?" she whispered, swallowing the nerves that made her lightheaded and her knees weak. Or was it simply his touch, the look he gave her as he smiled, pulling her closer until she was against his chest, her hand splayed against his fair skin, his arm braced behind her back, holding her tightly against his body.

"I have wanted to do this since I first saw you," he admitted, his voice a whisper against her ear, his lips warm, hungry.

"Ye t you meant to walk away," she reminded him, gasping as his fingers began to trace a wayward path up her ribs in a languorous movement that made her want to sit down, no lie down with him… She shuddered at the thought, hardly able to believe he was here.

"I was a fool, unpredictably jealous that you might be willing to offer yourself to others." He kissed her forehead, his hand tangling into her hair, loosening the tie that had held it back.

"But…" his hand covered her mouth, palm against her lips, his face inches from hers.

"No buts, I was wrong. I intend to make amends." His smile was wicked. "However I can."

He seemed very familiar with her dress, unlacing the elven over-gown easily, his fingers deft and quick. She could get no more than a few steps from him before he caught her, either by the wrist or the arm, once by the waist to drag her near, his lips claiming hers until she was breathless, wilting, struggling to keep her feet.

Her gown had fluttered to the floor ages ago, the cloak long forgotten, what was left did little to shield any modesty she might have had left.

She didn't think the bed was meant for two, but found it didn't matter. Pillows littered the floor in a hasty impatience that flung a couple nearly out the window. She nearly laughed at her own eagerness, tugging the laces of his leggings, aware of what was hidden beneath, curious and quite intent on finding out what was there.

She was not disappointed.

It was there, his weapon… she nearly giggled, aware his brow lifted in question, but decided it would do.

He allowed her little time to stare, for within an instant she was on her back, his mouth crushing hers in a kiss that seemed to go on forever, while his fingers roamed areas she didn't know had feelings, igniting and enflaming her body until she was quivering jumble of nerves and wants, her body fully engulfed by her desire.

He'd wanted her…

From the moment he'd seen her. The thought lay forcefully in her mind, even as he sent her into gasping, arching waves of pleasure.

He'd taunted her, laughed at her, yet she would take him again, would show him she could match his arrogance.

The future that had seemed so dim suddenly was brighter. He would not find it so easy to dismiss her, she thought distantly. Tangling her fingers into his hair, she brought his mouth to hers, pressed her body tightly against his. He felt heavy, yet she knew he was not putting his full weight upon her. The air seemed to shimmer with tension, her heart fluttering madly, his breathing ragged to the point she was sure he was nearing the end of his control, probing, teasing, ready to finish what they had begun.

She twisted her fingers further into the long silver locks of his hair, answering the tease with pain, impatience, to which he laughed, prying her fingers free of the strands.

"Patience," he whispered, kissing her throat. He smiled wickedly, and then shifted, pulling her over him as he lay back, his hair splayed out onto the pillow as she sat up.

"I have more than you think," Ciren murmured. "However, I don't feel like waiting much longer." She shook out her hair, covering her nearly to the hips, and then leaned forward to brush his chest with her lips.

His fingers slid into her hair, rigid as she pressed kisses over his skin, but not for long. For all his mocking laughter, he was as impatient as she, growling softly when she slid against his hips. Her body felt flushed, his fingers nearly burning her skin. One movement would complete their union.

She hesitated, trembling with the want, on fire, yet cold, chilled as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Perhaps this was wrong, she thought suddenly. Perhaps…

He must have read her mind, felt her pull back both mentally and physically. With a hiss he twisted, shoving her hard onto her back, his mouth crushing hers in a bruising kiss she knew would leave her lips swollen if not bruised, and then he was there, thrusting so deeply she felt it against her spine. Her body contracted, her legs hugged his hips, she arched against him in a shuddering wave of pleasure.

She was not sure how long they loved, but knew it was late, near morning when they were through, the moonlight still bright, but diminishing. She watched the wind ruffle the curtains, wide-awake, heart still beating madly, while he lay behind her, his arm thrown carelessly around her waist, the other tucked beneath his head.

She hoped he slept, only to remember the elves did not necessarily sleep. Was he awake then? He seemed relaxed, so she assumed he was not quite aware, which gave her time to think.

Their attraction had been volatile; she had to admit with a faint smile. He both annoyed and intrigued her; his lovemaking had been exquisite, assured, and confident. She could not complain compared to her brief encounters.

It still surprised her that he had truly wanted her. She shivered at the thought and he murmured something indistinct against her hair, his arm tightening around her waist.

She still didn't know what the future held for her. She had to trust Haldir that they would help her mother. A tear slid down her cheek, melting into her hair as she considered what her mother now had to look forward to, what she had wanted so deeply, for so long.

Elterion. The handsome elf who did not seem to harbor any resentment for Mirium's departure, for not telling him of Ciren. She struggled to think of him as her father, but could not. The image of such a person was too dim, too distant to capture. She had no idea what the term truly meant.

And just why had Galadriel, Haldir's liege, looked for her in the first place?

Questions that would be answered at some point.

A moth hovered near the window, wings fluttering, catching the light, white velvet against the blue of the early morning sky.

"A good omen to start the day," Haldir murmured against her hair. His hand pressed her stomach and then slid along her hip to her ribs in a slow caress. "You have been thinking far too deeply."

Her breath caught at his touch, her eyes closed to savor the feel of his fingers as they grazed her skin. "Why is the moth a good omen?"

"Mmm, they represent good cheer, a light in the darkness, much like a firefly at the day's waning."

The words were melodic, his voice husky with sleep, content.

Perhaps, she thought hazily, her future was not so dim.

The end.


End file.
